


Avatar Short Fic Collection

by zinjadu



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 16:19:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rehosting some of my shorter fic in a collection.  Cause I'm lazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Fill the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Total AU now that A:LoK is out, but I still dig it.

The fires have been banked, the waters have calmed, the earth has quieted, but the sky. The sky is still painfully empty. So he fills it. Flying from one city to another, brokering peace and hope with every word, an Avatar’s duty is far from over, even denying himself the respite of death.

It has been years, but they start to show up. At first they seem like insane cultists, following his every move, shaving their heads, giving up their possessions, but every year there’s more of them.

Their numbers grow and they plead; Avatar, teach us. Show us how to be free. We only wish to be free.

Years go by and their pleas go unanswered. He is too busy, he is too tired. He doesn’t want to see the sky filled with pretenders, because freedom isn’t taught, it’s discovered, it’s embraced. It’s where you walk off the edge of a cliff and fly, not because you have to, but because it’s where you’re meant to be. The last he does not say.

They still come, but they no longer plead. They sit and wait, patient, and do not cry out when he moves on. They dress in yellow and orange, they offer what food they have foraged for themselves or has been given to them, and they ask nothing of him save one thing. Let us follow you.

But they cannot fly, and cannot follow. They have not made the leap, not yet. So he shakes his head and moves on.

The years and decades flutter by, and he is nearing his end, but he still flies. He will always fly, and as he glides over the old Southern Air Temple he sees a child, barely older than he was when he saved the world. A child standing on the edge of a cliff. Crying out, he breaks for the child, but he is too late. She has jumped.

No, no no no nononono. NO! No more deaths in this place, no more… and he hears it. A laugh. A delighted laugh. The laugh of one who is free. He laughs with her, their voices mingling as they swoop and swirl around the mountain peaks with only the air to hold them aloft, because that is all they will ever need.

He is dying, and he has no regrets. For he is dying to the sounds of life returning to the temple and a full sky. He is dying to the sounds of those who gave up earthly attachments and found freedom. He is dying with his people.

He is dying, but the Air Nomads have been reborn.


	2. This is Who You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Iroh in the crystal cave back in Book Two. Iroh tried.

Zuko could not look at his uncle. Just outside his heart’s content waited for him, everything he had ever wanted was in his grasp.

But…

Azula always lies… Azula always lies…

“Zuko,” Iroh said, breaking into his nephew’s train of thought.

“What is it, Uncle?” the boy snapped.

“Whatever you decide, know that I will always be proud of you, my nephew.”

“Really Uncle? Would you?”

“Yes,” the old man said, without hesitation or reservation, “I would.”

Zuko’s shoulders tensed and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“There is something I want you to have. Come here,” Iroh asked.

Zuko did as he was bid and faced the old man who had become in some ways more father to him than his own sire ever would be, but that did not change that Zuko wanted his own father’s approval, not that of an old man who only replaced his dead son with his brother’s.

Iroh fished out a Pai-Sho tile from his sleeve, then held it up for Zuko to see.

“It’s your White Lotus,” Zuko remarked.

“It is yours, Nephew. Keep it with you, as a reminder of who you are,” Iroh said sternly.

“I know who I am!” he yelled.

“Then go show them! Show Azula who you are!” Iroh barked.

And then something in the boy changed. The set of his shoulder’s dropped, his stance became relaxed. “I will, Uncle.”

He spun, giving a quick kick to a fissure in the crystal, and then ran out of the cave, leaving his uncle to finish the job of freeing himself.

It was all they had time for before hell itself rose up and consumed Ba Sing Se.

Iroh, later in the dungeons of the great Earth Kingdom city, wondered if he had done the right thing, wondered if he had been wise to put his nephew in this position, to maneuver him as he had done. But if everything went as planned, if he had seen into his nephew’s heart, the hearts of the children who cared for the Avatar and the heart of the Avatar himself, well. He might just fulfill his vow to the great spirits yet.

And that gave him hope, in those dank dungeons.

Zuko, he thought, be the man my son never had the chance to be.


	3. His White Lotus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different take on the same idea as the previous chapter. Only this time, Zuko doesn't know he's a player.

I am an old man, and I know my time will be over soon.

My life, I am sad to say, is not one I am entirely proud of. Not many men can admit to that, and most would think my life has been good; the list of accomplishments is a long one. However, the list of acts I am proud of is far too short.

Once, when I was young, I had such dreams. Dreams of being a fair and just Fire Lord, of doing right by my people once I gained the throne. The dreams of youth are large ones, ones that do not always come true, and even when on the cusp of attaining a dream it can all be taken away far too fast.

And it took me far too many years to learn from that lesson, and I can only pray my nephew learns in it in time.

I wonder what would have happened had I not been so driven, by desperation and sorrow, to reach into the Spirit World and try to find my beloved Lu-Ten once more. To see his strong face and eyes that showed more of his mother than me.

I never found my son among the spirits and winding paths of the world that mirrors and dances around ours, but something else found me. Though I suppose I should say someone else. A spirit I had thought departed from all things forever, but one I could not deny. So I received my orders, like the good solider I had been raised to be, but now I believed in these orders.

Then I went home.

Upon my return, I found the orders would be more difficult to follow than I had believed. I thought to educate my nephew, however secretly, would return the Fire Nation to its rightful place as one of four, not the one and only. My eyes had been opened to the world of spirits, and in Zuko I could see a small measure of hope for my country and my people that I had been told of. A boy too kind for the Fire Lord’s home. A boy destined for something more than a conqueror’s legacy. A boy with a fate far different than what he wanted.

Sadly, my brother remained more watchful than I ever would have thought and training stayed difficult. Paranoia does run in the family.

And then the unthinkable happened. The boy I had begun to teach, bit by bit, was betrayed and burned by his own father. The second saddest day in my life, hearing the boy’s screams echo throughout the arena and at the healer’s they brought him to. Banished, cut off from his family, I could not leave him. For the sake of my orders and for the sake of love.

The task I had set myself to, that I had set my nephew to, was one that required hope not bitterness, and after being hurt so badly I could only trust in the boy my nephew had been and still was in spite of himself to rise from his position and become who he needed to be. Who the Fire Nation needed him to be.

Who the world needed him to be.

Today he makes me tea (horrible stuff I would not drink normally, though the thought is very kind), and in it there is an echo of the boy he used to be. I hold to that and hope. If only he can rise above his past like so much mud and open his heart in time, but such things are out of my hands.

I know that this is his path, the one he must follow if balance is to be restored. Much of my vision did not make sense at first, but after knowing the Avatar had returned much became clear. It had been difficult, working to assist my nephew in capturing the Avatar while at the same time hoping that he would not.

Two years of trying to teach him how to be a good ruler, how to control and accept his emotions to make him the Firebender he has the potential to be, and I know it was not for the Fire Nation alone that I have been working. It was for a young boy who needs to learn how to Firebend. (Ha! What I would give to be a fly on that wall, seeing Prince Zuko teaching anyone anything. Ah, but I doubt I will.)

For now I teach him what he calls ‘Avatar stuff,’ in the hope he will open his eyes. For now I teach him how to ride lightning in the hope it will save his and other’s lives. For now I give him the space to come to terms with his past.

Tomorrow we will journey to find safety in Ba Sing Se.

I know I have lived a full life, with laughter and many fine women, but my nephew, scarred in more ways I can count, has more honor than most I have met.

I am an old man, and soon I will answer for all I have done. The good and the bad.

May the gods have mercy upon this poor, foolish old soul.


	4. Brotherly Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lu-Ten tries to help out his young cousin.

“Lu-Ten! Lu-Ten!” Zuko called out over the courtyard. The little boy rushed toward his cousin on sturdy legs, his arms held out and reaching to be picked up.

“Hey Zuko.” Lu-Ten laughed as he scooped up his young cousin.

“You’re back!”

“Yup, not for long, though. Grandpa wants me back on the front as soon as I give my report.”

“Does that mean you can’t play?”

“No. I’ve always got time to play,” Lu-Ten assured him. He set the boy down and straightened the expensive clothing his Aunt Ursa dressed him in every morning.

“Promise?” Zuko pleaded, looking up at his cousin with bright amber eyes.

Lu-Ten bent down, ruffling Zuko’s hair. “Promise.”

“Yay!” the boy said as he ran off, probably back to his nurse.

Later, after happily feeling the war room of his grandfather, he sought out his little cousin. Lu-Ten vividly recalled growing up in the Fire Palace, where anyone and everyone could be your enemy, and he had not had the comfort of a living mother, only his oft absent father. But he had wished for an older brother, many times, to protect him when his father and his own station could not. It was the least he could do to look out for Zuko. If the reports from Ozai were to be believed, the boy would need it more than he could ever realize.

He stopped just short of the practice arena to watch as Zuko trained. The boy was throwing his whole self into it, that was easy enough to see, but he didn’t have the raw talent that Ozai would have expected of a first born.

A shame, that.

“Hey!” Lu-Ten interrupted. “How about I take over his training for the day?”

The master only gave his prince a sharp look before departing in a huff.

“What a guy, huh?” Lu-Ten remarked to Zuko.

“He’s alright. Mean sometimes.”

“Why’s he mean?”

“Cause he says I’m not a good enough Firebender.” Zuko shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the ground.

“Well. He’s wrong.”

“Really?”

Lu-Ten smiled. “Really, really.”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” Lu-Ten said as he rearranged the practice field. “He doesn’t know what I know. And I know that you are going to be a great Firebender, but it could take a while.”

“Why can’t it happen now?” Zuko whined.

“The things that are worthwhile, Zuko, are the things that take a while.”

“That’s stupid.”

Lu-Ten laughed. “Yeah, I used to think that, too. Now come on, get in your stance. I don’t have anywhere else to go today.”


	5. Survival: A Warrior's Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night the Fire Nation raided Sokka and Katara's village.

Fear is the thing that comes in the night, when everyone is asleep and little girls dream of the widest, most comforting blue that protects them all.

Fear is the thing that rushes through the village before the warriors can react, and little boys don’t dream anymore.

Fear is the thing that burns and destroys, as mothers save their babies but can do nothing for themselves.

At ten Sokka knew fear, huddled underneath his mother with his sister, protecting his sister with his own body as the flames got hotter and hotter, their mother a dead weight above them. Katara shivered and tears and snot ran down her face, just as frightened as him and knowing what had happened even though she couldn’t see, shielded by her brother.

He knew the flames wouldn’t stop there, wouldn’t be satisfied with just taking his mom away.

Gritting his teeth, he reached for the knife his father had left behind, in case it came down to Sokka between his mother and sister and the Fire Nation. Sokka would be expected to act like a man of the Water Tribe, no less. Now it had a different purpose.

Putting as much strength into it as he could, he hacked at the hide wall of the tent. It tore open. He shoved Katara out first, sending her sprawled into a snow bank, but at least out of the flames and the choking smoke. He followed right after, needing to stay close to her if he was going to do at least half his job right.

He grabbed her hand and ran. To get her to safety. Then he could come back for mom. Mom would yell at him if he didn’t think of Katara first.

Along the way he saw others, running into the safety of the ice, where only the Tribe knew all the ins and outs and ways to stay alive. They could wait this out, the soldiers would leave eventually.

Crying and clinging to him, Katara stumbled and fell as they ran, but Sokka kept picking her up and dragging her along. Eventually they made it to a cave, nestled in a large maze-like ice formation. Sokka felt sure that only he and Katara knew about this place.

He sat her down and noticed she had stopped crying. Instead she had gone perfectly still, tears crystallizing on her face.

“Katara,” he said, soft. “I have to go back for mom. I’ll be right back, okay?” He stood to leave, but a small, ungloved hand held onto his wrist so tight.

“Katara, Mom needs me. We can’t just leave her in there!”

She tugged.

“Katara...”

“Mom’s...”

“She’s just fine! She’s probably on her way right now. I gotta make sure she knows where we are. She’ll yell at us if we scare her.”

His sister looked at him, eyes as blue and deep as his own, and he stopped dreaming.

He collapsed, knees hitting the ice hard, but it didn’t register. Crawling, he huddled close to his sister, for warmth he told himself, neither of them had the full snowsuit on and the night winds would be up soon.

And the wind did howl, like hungry wolves, ready to hunt. Ready to kill. It raged all night, just outside the mouth of the cave, deflected by spires of ice. And all night they clung to each other like they were the only things left in the world.

For all they knew, they very well could be.

Morning came, and the winds died, letting the acrid scent of smoke linger and tell them all they needed to know.

Silent, Sokka left the cave, motioning for Katara to stay put. She didn’t, but she stayed quiet and didn’t ask questions like she normally did. He inched and crawled and circled the ruin that had been their home, no fire in sight. Even the ships had left.

Then he saw their father, hunched over the burned remains of their tent, sobbing.

Katara ran to him, arms outstretched and tears running anew down her cheeks. Sokka wanted to make her stay back, just in case, but he couldn’t grab her hand in time.

Their father looked up, and Sokka had no words for the look on his face when he saw them. He could not know that their father saw his children back from the dead. Katara was scooped up into their father’s arms and hugged so tight it hurt, but it didn’t matter. Sokka received the same treatment, though they were careful of the knife Sokka had yet to let go of.

Not long after they found out they were the only two children left in the village, the only ones who had escaped. The rest had been burned or gutted in their furs. All that was left now were a handful of the warriors, and a few women, most unmarried or old. Not a single Bender had been left alive, except for the one girl who had escaped with her brother.

Sokka, his father said, had done his duty, he protected his sister and acted as a true warrior.

But Sokka knew a true warrior would have gone back to fight.

He wouldn’t be afraid like that again.

The next time he saw a Firebender, he’d kill him.


End file.
